Of Books and Bells
by BehindEvilThoughts
Summary: After freeing her beloved from the Enchantresses spell, Belle sets off once again to the Paris of her childhood to embark on a journey of self-discovery. Beauty and the Beast (2017) Live action cross over with The Hunchback of Notre Dame (Novel). I own nothing. Characters and titles belong to Walt Disney Studios and Victor Hugo's respective work.
1. Of Books and Bells - Chapter 1

"I suppose there's no point in trying to change your mind?" Adam asked from his place on the castle steps. He watched his beloved walk calmly down the stairs towards Phillipe, who was tied to a post. Belle gave a small, teasing smirk and turned back at her lover fondly. A sympathetic frown had creased her brow. She smiled at him, but it was a rather sad smile. "As much as I would love your company…. I think I should do this alone." She said as she walked back and embedded herself in the Prince's loving embrace. "I won't be gone long. I promise."

He didn't have to like it, but the young Prince had accepted his beloved's decision. "I know." He placed a small kiss on her forehead and then placed his hands on her shoulders, pushing her away ever so slightly. Just enough so that she could look up and into his eyes. "Safe journey, Belle. I'll be waiting." He looked at her as he had the day he changed back into a man. With those humble and deep blue eyes staring into the deep caverns of her soul. Belle's heart sung with joy. She wouldn't be quite whole without her Prince at her side. But to her, it was important that she take the long road to Paris alone. As much as she adored Adam, his castle and all of the people who worked there, it wasn't enough.

She still felt the world calling out to her. So many places she had not yet explored. So many people she had never met. It was time for another journey. Another adventure in the great wide somewhere.

"I love you." She gave Adam one last kiss, pressing her lips to his own. That would be enough words for now. If she spoke anymore…she might never leave.

She unhitched Phillipe from his post and climbed onto his back. The noble horse had never failed her, or her father. Belle could think of no better companion.

The reason for Belle's second journey to Paris was a rather simple one. She wanted to see the city of her childhood with brand new eyes. Before, she had been naïve. She had believed in a Paris that did not exist. One that only lived in a childish and fanciful mind. Yes, it was smaller than she had imagined. But what she had imagined was a fantasy. She was wiser now. And with that newfound wisdom, she would explore the city with a new frame of mind. One which would accept the dull cobblestone streets as they were. Even if it wasn't all that she had hoped it would be, it would still be hers to discover nonetheless. The world of her childhood dreams would soon be hers to savour. And this time, without the heavy shroud of grief to cloud her mind. It would be different this time. She was sure of it.

The journey had been rather long but thankfully peaceful. Belle had been keen enough to bring enough provisions for both herself and Phillipe. To take even one step out onto the road without an preparedness would have been terribly uncharacteristic of her.

One long week on horseback had proven to be a strenuous challenge. Belle struggled to imagine how her father had managed to take her to Villeneuve as a baby along with all of their belongings in tow. She had always thought Maurice to be a strong man, both in heart and in body. Though perhaps he was stronger still than even she could imagine.

"Just over the next hill, Phillipe." Had become a routine mantra for Belle. But finally, after reaching the peak of many hills, there it was at last. She could see the great city in the distance through the early morning fog. "We made it…" She smiled with a gentle exhale of relief and gave Phillipe a pat on his neck.

It was far more beautiful in the light of day. Belle knew soon the morning mist would lift and she would see the city for the first time, without judgement and fanciful, childish expectations.

The Paris of her childhood. She was ready to see all of it again.

The guards at the gate briefly inspected her bags. When they found only books and food, they gestured for her to carry on. Though Belle knew she would have no trouble moving through the city, the thought of being robbed did cross her mind for the first time. She dismounted Phillipe and walked over to a nearby post and water trough.

"Good boy, Phillipe." She exclaimed, giving him many pats on his tired back.

She took his reins and fastened them to the post by the trough. She knew she would not be allowed to take Phillipe any further into the city. As she understood, only soldiers were allowed to do so. She gave the horse one last worried glance before making her way further into the streets and markets. She packed lightly, bringing only what she needed.

The markets assaulted Belle with sounds and scents. The smell of freshly baked bread, fruits and vegetables of all kinds enticed her forward to the stalls. Merchants shouted, persuading unknowing customers to come forward. Belle was taken aback at how many people there were around her. There must been a hundred, no! At least a thousand more people just in this square alone than in her entire village back home. And Belle had never seen so many different looking people either. They came in every shade of skin, every type of attire and spoke in so many different languages, Belle lost count altogether. The poor, the rich and everyone in-between were mingling and running quickly about all around her. Belle smiled warmly and greeted everyone she came close to. Some even greeted her in return, with a "Bonjour" and a nod of their heads. Though most were too busy to spare even a glance in her direction.

Eventually, Belle could resist the smells no longer and allowed herself to buy some bread and some summer berries. Belle's mouth watered slightly upon purchasing some ripe strawberries from a vendor. She tried not to eat too many of them as she continued to browse at all of the shop keep's wares.

As Belle was nearing the edge of the square, she heard the sounds of lutes and drums being played nearby. As she got closer, she could see the music was coming from a small troupe of beggars. All dark skinned and even darker haired. Without even a second thought, Belle reached into one of her pouches and threw a few francs into the hat at her feet. One of the beggars met eyes with Belle. He said nothing, but his thankful, radiant smile spoke volumes. Belle returned the smile back.

Belle held her basket of purchases with two hands in front of her with a content smile. She sighed softly as a pleasant breeze began to blow through her brown locks of hair. The long journey had been worth the toil. Paris was more wonderful and vibrant than she could have ever imagined. The view she had gained from her Father's attic had shown her only a mere fraction of what the city had to offer. It seems she had vastly misjudged it's worth.

Just as Belle had become so consumed in her thoughts, a loud, thunderous sound began to toll from above. It startled her so much, she almost dropped her basket onto the street. Once the shock had passed, Belle realized what she was hearing were only bells. Cathedral bells…

The sound guided Belle's gaze upwards; up, and up and up until at least her eyes set upon two magnificent bell towers crowning a massive, stone Cathedral. Belle let out a small gasp upon recognizing the building for what it was. Her father's descriptions of Notre Dame had done it no justice at all. It was far more beautiful and majestic than Belle could have ever conceived. Standing before it in all of it's stone glory, Belle felt as though the eyes of God himself were gazing upon her. It was no wonder that pilgrims and priests from all over the world travelled miles on foot just to see this sacred, holy place. It was truly a sight to behold; Belle felt her knees weaken at the sound of the bells once more. Never had she heard a sound more divine. It took the very breath out of her lungs and left her nearly gasping for air.

Of course, the sound compelled Belle to walk closer to it. She suddenly felt a strong urge to stand below the saints and angels carved of stone and be regarded in their gazes. Belle and her father had never been strictly vigilant Christians, but she certainly had faith in a power greater than man. And if that power did exist, then there was no doubt in her mind that it rested here; in the holiest place in France.

Belle gave a quick, observant glance around her. There were hardly any people occupying the square in front of the cathedral at this time. And furthermore, there were no guards posted at the doors as far as she could tell. She saw no harm in taking a look inside. If her village church was any indication of how other places of worship operated, she would be allowed to go in and out as she pleased.

Belle walked quickly up the steps and opened one of the front doors. It creaked loudly as she pulled on the handle. She slipped inside, closing it behind her. Belle's jaw dropped a couple of inches as she turned around. The inside was just as beautiful. Gorgeous, tiled floors lined the large corridors. Stained glass windows adorned every wall, casting rainbows of colour down upon the stone at her feet. It was marvelous.

Mid-day mass was still being sung when Belle entered. The beautiful voices of the choir echoed throughout the large stone interior. And as Belle walked, her steps on the stone echoed as well. Belle quickly supposed that she could certainly admire the cathedral from another place. She wished not to interrupt the choir and their ethereal tones. She had not come to Paris to become an annoyance.

Belle slipped away up a nearby spiral staircase that carried her upwards into a long, narrow chamber. The stairs seemed endless and Belle's legs quickly ached at the climb. But the view was entirely worth it. Belle stepped out through an open door and found herself standing on a large balcony. It was the bridge that connected the two bell towers together. Belle gasped at the view below. The sight was incomparable to anything else she had ever seen in her life. Only Adam's library had ever ignited such joy in her before.

The breeze felt so pure and clean up there. Belle breathed in the crisp air and sighed; a large smile planted itself on her lips. She could barely contain herself from giggling happily. If only her father could see this. The river Seine sparkled and shined in the afternoon sunlight. Belle could see the city stretch off for miles, as though it were endless. The longer she stared at it all, the harder it became to tear her gaze away.

Belle knew it would only be a matter of time before she would have to leave Paris and begin the long journey back home. But if she could slow the clock for just a moment, it would be now. However, Belle wasn't a child anymore. She was a grown woman. And a grown woman couldn't afford to be selfish.

This would have to be enough.

Slowly, Belle pained herself to turn away from the view and back towards the tower door where she had come from. Back inside the tower, things had become eerily quiet. And not even the rustling of the high winds could be heard.

But before she could break the silence with her own footsteps, Belle heard the unmistakable sound of a floorboard creak a few feet above her head. She turned to look up but nothing was there.

But Belle was no fool. Although her beauty was a fair façade, she was so much more than her appearance. Belle had encountered this feeling before. The very distinct and irreplaceable feeling of being watched.

Someone was with her in the tower.


	2. Of Books and Bells - Chapter 2

2

Belle supposed it would be rather foolish to jump to any dangerous conclusions. The Cathedral must have workers who maintain it. But if the sound had only come from a worker, why did they not simply reveal themselves? Belle had nothing to defend herself with. It was cowardly, but should she be approached by an unsavoury character she would have to run. It was her only option.

Though once more, she found herself jumping to conclusions.

Belle inhaled a cautious breath of air into her lungs and began to slowly walk up the stairs. Each wooden board creaked as she ascended into the dark tower. She pulled up the front of her dress as she did, taking care not to trip over her own feet. The stairs were long and winding, seemingly endless. The steps were so hidden in shadow, Belle could barely see where her feet were going. At last, she could see a bit of light filtering in just above her head. There was no sign of anyone as of yet, but she wasn't about to let her guard down.

Winded, she stopped on the last step and paused to take a breath. She looked back up at the space in front of her. For the umpteenth time that day, Belle was in awe. Row upon row, each huge, magnificent bell hung silently from the rafters. Their shine was just as magnificent and divine as the sounds they made. Seeing them so still was somehow almost frightening to Belle. As though they were only slumbering and gathering strength for the next time they tolled.

She was so caught up in the beauty of it all, the feeling of being watched had all but disappeared. But when Belle saw her reflection in one of the larger bells, she caught a flicker of movement within it's golden shine. She gasped and whirled around quickly. No one was there, but she could still hear movement nearby.

Fear had risen into anger. Belle kept her mouth closed, but inhaled crossly through her nose. "Who's there?!" She finally had the courage to say. She was surprised at herself. The voice that had come out of Belle was as vicious as an animal, ready to lunge at the first sign of danger. She felt just as she had the day she first entered Adam's castle in search of her father.

When she received no reply, she said nothing but instead glowered in anger at the shadows of the tower. If her follower refused to reveal themselves, then they should have no qualms about her leaving. Belle turned away and walked towards the tower stairs. But she had only taken two steps down when she heard a faint sound. Had it not been that the tower was so quiet, Belle might not have heard it at all.

A foot stepping down upon a creaking floorboard. Nothing more. But it was enough to prompt Belle to slowly turn to look behind her.

There, standing at the far end of the tower was what Belle guessed to be a man. She couldn't tell if it was the harsh light of day behind him that had made his silhouette so misshapen, but his form looked rather odd to her _._ Belle arched one of her eyebrows in confusion, intrigue….and slight fear.

When she tried to take a step closer to the "man", he took one step back. Belle frowned. "Why have you been watching me!?" She could not hide the irritation in her voice. But it seemed useless to ask such a question. The man did not answer.

Frustrated, Belle curled her hands into tight fists. She felt a sudden wave of bravery flood into her bones. If he would not come to her, she would come to him. Belle began to walk quickly towards the figure at the end of the tower room. But before she could get to the end of it, her pace had already slowed down to a near stop. And eventually, she halted altogether when the man's hideousness became knowns to her. The creature that stood before her seemed so startled by her defiance that he had not the will to flee further from her. He froze and instead allowed himself to be seen; like a petrified, wounded animal. From his mouth came a frightened noise which sounded only faintly human.

Belle's eyes had not deceived her. His body was crooked; permanently it seemed. A large mass on his back kept him from standing up straight, forcing him to look upwards at all whom he met. His disheveled hair sat upon a rather unpleasant visage. He also appeared to be blind in one of his eyes, the iris pale and milky white. His face seemed to be malformed, as though he had not had not been given the chance to fully grow in his mother's womb. His countenance was pale and looked as though it had not caught a ray of sunlight in ages. He also appeared to be missing some teeth as well though Belle had not looked close enough to know. Powerful arms protruded outwards from underneath ragged and dirty clothes; and his large, strong but trembling hands were wrapped up in bandage cloths. Belle briefly observed them and came to a quick conclusion. This man, though misshapen he may be…. was a worker here after all. And hands like these, so powerful yet damaged…were used every day for one thing and one thing only.

To ring the bells.

Belle put a hand over her mouth not in terror, but in epiphany. A horrible, sinking feeling made her heart plummet into the pits of her stomach. "I…." She began, but realized she had nothing to say. What could she say? Moreover, how could she even begin to apologize for being so vindictive towards an innocent bell ringer?

To her surprise, it was the man in front of her who spoke the words she was fighting to say. "I….I'm sorry…." He said in quiet shame. He hung his head down, as though afraid she might scold him. Belle had thought it odd before, but the man's voice had a strange sort of tone to it that she couldn't quite place. If Belle were to guess, the man wasn't much older than she was. However, he spoke as though he were still a child. Fumbling over certain syllables and forcing words out with a clumsy tongue that seemed barely used. Her eyes widened in deepest regret and sorrow when she realized at last what the cause of it was.

"You….you can't hear me….can you?" Belle asked. She found herself crouching down just a little, enough to look him directly in the eye. She was sure it must feel belittling for a man of his age to be looked down upon in such a way. The man looked at her for a few moments. Belle was just about to repeat herself when he finally spoke again. He opened his mouth and stuttered slightly before finally speaking as clearly as he could muster. "Ah! It's…. it's the bells." He pointed to one of the silent, hanging bells just behind his shoulder and then put a finger up to his ear. Belle nodded her head sympathetically in understanding. "B…but I can still hear…a little! A…and read lips." He assured her in his unique tone of voice.

Belle sighed deeply, feeling nothing but shame for how she had spoken to him moments earlier. She had been so impatient and demanding with him. If only she had known. The reason for his hiding was now completely transparent. And as for why he had not answered her…. well…that was clear now as well.

The resentment she might have felt earlier was completely gone now. Instead, Belle felt a duty to befriend him after having forced her misplaced anger so swiftly upon him.

"What is your name?" Belle asked, as slowly and clearly as she could. The man responded faster this time, her method of speaking to him seemed to work. "Quasimodo." He said. Belle repeated it as a whisper under her breath. It was a curious name and most certainly Latin by the sound of it. Though unless Belle's education deceived her, it had a very unfortunate meaning. The very anthesis of her own.

"It's nice to meet you. I'm Belle." She offered her hand out to him in a friendly gesture. The bell ringer reluctantly took it in his own. It was so large, it easily wrapped around her own smaller, slender hand.

"It's a…. beautiful name…." Quasimodo said, rather bashfully. Belle could not help but smile warmly. For one so deformed to exude such a gentle and polite presence was an odd paradox to be confronted it. But Belle welcomed and accepted it gladly without reluctance.

"Thank you." She replied with a warm smile. Eventually, her gaze resumed to the bells that surrounded them. "Do you live here?" She asked, taking care to face Quasimodo directly as she spoke. He nodded, much to her surprise. "All my life." He responded. Though he didn't seem at all troubled about this. Belle nodded and continued to marvel at the beauty of the bells. Their presence was oddly comforting.

"So beautiful…" She whispered in awe before turning back to the bell ringer. "I never thought I'd get to see them up close." Belle said, feeling suddenly quite excited and grateful. Quasimodo stepped to her side. "Her name is Gabriel." He said. Belle looked at him in confusion. "I'm sorry?"

"This bell….her name is Gabriel." He repeated. Belle's eyes widened slightly in understanding as she slowly nodded. "Oh….yes, of course." She paused for a moment and looked back at the bell ringer with a faint smirk. "Would you mind…. introducing me to all of them?" She asked, after a brief pause. "It's not every day you get to become acquainted with bells." She added with a smirk. Quasimodo's face lit up brightly with a smile. Belle suspected he had not looked nor felt this happy in a long time. "Oh, yes!" He exclaimed. He took Belle gently by the hand and led her over to the other bells, all hanging in a row.

"Let's see….on this side….yes….we have Marie…..Etienne…..Marcel….and!" He pointed to the last and the largest bell that hung on the far side of the tower, the closest towards the edge of the balcony. "….that is Emmanuel." Belle smiled widely in awe upon seeing the great bell, in all of her glory. "She's gorgeous." She gushed with a gentle sigh while placing a hand on her heart. "She sounds the most beautiful, too…." Quasimodo added and then looked at Belle. "Would you….like to hear her?" He asked slowly, as if afraid that she would say no.

Belle turned to him with a look of joy and just as giddy as a school girl. "Oh….yes! Please!" She asked, excitedly. Belle took a few steps back away from the great bell while Quasimodo jumped down to a lower platform. He grabbed the ropes that hung from Emmanuel and looked up at Belle, pausing for a moment. Belle placed both hands over her ears and braced herself.

With a mighty heave, Quasimodo pulled the rope all the way down nearly to the floor. Emmanuel tipped forwards one way and then quickly sprung back in the opposite direction. It began to toll loudly, swinging back and forth as it did. The floor beneath Belle's feet shook violently at the sound. At first, she felt just the slightest bit afraid. But when that passed, she found herself overjoyed by the sound. Yes, it was frighteningly loud but it was also magnificent. More so than any other sound she had ever heard in her life. It thrilled her and she began to laugh in sheer joy.

"It's amazing!" She called out loudly. Though she was unsure if Quasimodo was able to hear her, she felt she could not help but say so.

A few minutes passed until the ringing began to silence itself. Quasimodo returned to the platform where Belle stood. He gave a proud sort of smile, obviously pleased to see her so content. For a few moments, that is all the two of them did: smile at each other in contentedness. Quasimodo had never had an outside visitor to the bell tower before. And Belle had ever been inside one before. Both were happy in the moment, for different reasons….but happy nonetheless. Belle was just about to open her mouth to thank him, when she heard the sounds of footsteps ascending the staircase behind her. She thought nothing of it, but as soon as Quasimodo had noticed her turning her head towards the steps, the smile on his face immediately vanished. What had replaced it was a look of pure fear. He brought a hand to his mouth in shock and alarm and let out a frightened and pitiful whimper.

"It's…it's my master! I….I rung Emmanuel at the wrong time!" He exclaimed frightfully in a terrified realization. Belle furrowed her brow in alarm. "Your master?" She repeated in confusion. Quasimodo's eyes darted from side to side, quickly thinking and racing to a formidable conclusion. "Q….quickly! Hide! He can't see you!" He urged her with a waving gesture of hands. Without having much time to think, Belle darted behind one of the larger bells, concealing herself in shadow. With bated breath, she heard the footsteps grow louder and louder until the unseen person had entered the tower.


	3. Of Books and Bells - Chapter 3

Belle slowly managed to move out from behind the bell just enough to see who had entered the tower. Her eyes narrowed in intrigue when she saw who the person was. Of course, she did not recognize him by face. But she saw his white robes and immediately identified him as an Archdeacon. Belle knew this was a high-ranking position of power well respected among the Catholic Church. However, it was still rather unclear to her as to why Quasimodo had seemed so afraid of him. But what remained to be seen would be known to her soon.

The Archdeacon of Notre Dame bore a heavy, intense expression on his aged features. He looked to be a man of fifty years with short, thinning hair upon his head. Nearly every finger on his hand was adorned with a gold or silver ring. Atop his white robes was a red and black cloak that fell from his shoulders, swaying along the floor boards with ever step he took. His silhouette was imposing and radiated with Godly authority. He then looked upon Quasimodo with harsh, piercing eyes that were just as dark as they were unforgiving.

"Quasimodo!" The Archdeacon's voice bellowed. It echoed throughout the tower and beyond the balcony like rolling thunder. The bell ringer looked to his master as he struggled to find words that could be used to his immediate defense. He found none.

"Why are you ringing the bells at the wrong time?! Since when have you ever rung them at this hour?!" Quasimodo knew not what to say in the face of such scolding and instead fought to maintain eye contact with his guardian. The Archdeacon let out a long, frustrated sigh and took a few paces to the side. He was about to open his mouth, no doubt to complain again when he seemed to notice once more that someone had recently been here. Belle, who had been intensely watching from the shadows withdrew further within them.

"Who were you talking to?" The Archdeacon snapped suddenly at his ward. Quasimodo fought to meet his master's gaze. He failed once again and looked down at his nervous, wringing hands. "N….no one, sir." Replied the bell ringer in a voice so sad and pitiful, it was scarcely heard. Belle noticed the Archdeacon's expression change from irritated to enraged in a single moment. She felt a sudden impulse to run out into the light and explain everything, before Quasimodo was punished for something he could hardly be blamed for.

The older man moved quickly towards his servant and seemed to be preparing to strike him. "Don't you _dare_ lie to me, Quasimodo! Now tell me, who was here with you!?" The Archdeacon moved very close to the bell ringer and had grabbed him by his shirt with one hand while raising the other. Belle felt the blood in her veins rush furiously through her body, forcing her out of the shadows and into the light. "Wait!" Her voice wavered, but she said it loudly nonetheless. And thankfully, loud enough to gain the holy man's attention. He turned around and looked at her with severe eyes. But the anger on his face quickly subsided upon seeing Belle. Now instead of angry, the Archdeacon looked rather flustered. Belle would dare say even embarrassed, at having been caught in the midst of such a fury. He let go of Quasimodo and turned away from him fully. The bell ringer however was no more relieved now that Belle had revealed herself.

"Who are you?"

"My name is Belle, your grace." She gave a small bow of her head in the Archdeacon's direction. He looked at her with a surprised, but cautious gaze. "I see." His intense eyes shifted from her back to his servant. "And what may I ask…. are you doing here?" Thankfully, there was no need for Belle to lie. At least, not severely. "I came here to see the bells. I asked Quasimodo to ring them. It was not his fault." She said as sincerely as she could. Her honest voice and gaze seemed to calm the Archdeacon and bring him back to a place of serenity. The bell ringer, surprised at his master's new disposition began to slowly calm himself.

"I see you speak the truth, my child." The archdeacon at last said after a brief moment of contemplative silence. He then turned back to his charge; Quasimodo instinctively lowered his gaze. Though there was no need to presently. "It…seems my...judgement was misplaced." He said apologetically. But this manner of tone would not survive past this sentence. "Do you not have other duties to attend to?" He asked, his voice suddenly very stern again. Quasimodo nodded exuberantly. "Y….yes, master." He responded dutifully and disappeared into the shadows of the tower. But not before glancing one more time at Belle. A soft, worried expression plagued his deformed feature before they vanished into darkness altogether. Belle let a small sigh escape her lips, truly relieved that an innocent soul would be spared a cruel and unnecessary punishment.

The Archdeacon now turned his attentions directly towards Belle. His eyes seemed twice more human than the had been previously. For the first time, Belle felt she was talking to a man of the flesh rather than a divine master. "You must forgive my ward. He is quite naïve; little more than a child." Belle gave a soft frown upon hearing these words. "He did not seem like a child to me. I found him to be quite…endearing." She paused slightly to reiterate her expressions. "….in a way." Belle added as an afterthought. The Archdeacon simply looked at her with a narrowed, fixed gaze.

"Apologies. I have deserted my manners. I am Claude Frollo, Archdeacon of this Cathedral." Belle gave another polite bow of her head, as she supposed was custom to do so in the presence of such a high-ranking priest.

"It is a pleasure to meet you, your grace. But….I believe I must go now. I am sorry to have intruded. But please….do not blame Quasimodo. He was only trying to-"

"Yes. I am well aware of his intentions. Loyal though he may be, he tends to stray from his duties. He is quite easily distracted. Of course, I do not blame you my child." Frollo added with a slight, sympathetic gaze. Belle felt the smallest inkling of discomfort every time the words "my child" passed the Archdeacon's lips. It made her feel invisible. As though a little girl were standing in the place of the woman she had become.

"Yes…. but….I think I must take my leave now, if you will permit me." Belle asked, slightly afraid that she would not be granted permission to do so. She would never admit it out loud, but Belle felt rather strange in his presence, though saying why was impossible.

Frollo had looked upon her for a long, uncomfortable moment when at last he spoke, as if forgetting that he was expected to do so. "Of course." He said with a small wave of his hand. Belle curtsied briefly. "Thank you, your grace." She then turned around and began to make her way down the tower steps. Thoughts of the bell ringer and his master weighing heavily on her mind all the way back down.

Belle had taken up lodgings in a nearby inn, not two squares away from the Cathedral. And while the room she had was comfortable and to her liking, her mind would not allow her to rest. No matter how she tried, she could not seem to tear her thoughts away from Quasimodo and the Archdeacon. Worst of all, she could not forget about the anger she had seen in Frollo's eyes when he thought his servant might have been lying to him. For someone so innocent and kind to be treated so severely was simply wrong. And it was wrong, otherwise Belle's heart would have allowed her to forget.

Having had her fill of tossing and turning on her pillow, she decided to light a candle and write a short letter to Adam. She missed him dearly and now more than ever yearned for his guidance. She dipped her feathered pen in the ink well on her bedside table and began to write. Dispelling her thoughts from her mind to the paper seemed to calm her. She fell promptly asleep after the letter was finished.

 _Dearest Adam,_

 _Paris is so much more beautiful in the light of day. You would love it._

 _I met someone while I was visiting Notre Dame. He is the bell ringer there, and his name is Quasimodo. He is deformed and a bit frightening to look at, but he is also very kind. His master, the Archdeacon however is not kind at all. In fact, he would have physically beaten Quasimodo for doing nothing wrong if I hadn't been there to stop him._

 _I am deeply worried about him, Adam. I had only planned to stay in Paris for a few days but I think I must stay longer. I do not think that Quasimodo is safe as long as he is living with such a cruel man. I want to try and help him if I can._

 _I hope that this letter finds you well and that perhaps you'll be able to offer some good advice, as you always do._

 _Give my love to Mrs. Potts, Lumiere, Cogsworth and the rest of the workers. I miss them so much. But not nearly as much as I miss you._

 _Your beloved,_

 _Belle_


	4. Of Books and Bells - Chapter 4

Belle awoke the next day and was greeted by a slant of warm morning light shining on her face. She briefly contemplated rolling over on her other side and falling back asleep when she suddenly remembered the man she had met in the bell tower the day before. None of it had been a dream. This reality came crashing down upon her further when she heard the bells of Notre Dame ringing a few squares away. As beautiful as they ever were, but all the more somber now that Belle knew who rung them.

She got up slowly, gave a little stretch and presumed to wash her face and change into new clothes. With a blue ribbon, she tied her long brown hair up into an elegant bun. While rummaging through her things to look for something to eat, she came across her favourite book, _Le prince charmant._ She had read it at least one hundred times, but she couldn't bear to part with it on her journey. Without giving it much thought, she slid the book into her dress pocket and then grabbed one of the apples she had bought at the market.

Stepping outside, Belle noticed a rather large rain cloud was beginning to hover over the city. While she gave her letter to a courier and paid the fee, she felt a few rain drops splashing down upon her head. Knowing of nowhere else she wanted to go, Belle began to quickly make her way across the square in front of Notre Dame. For the second time, she would find herself going through the large, front doors and inside the great Cathedral. The rain began to pick up outside and now tapped heavily against the cathedral roof. Rain water poured from the mouths of the stone gargoyles above and down into the streets below.

As the rain pattered on the stain glass windows it the main hall, Belle was relieved to see that the Archdeacon was nowhere to be seen. She largely preferred to have her presence in the cathedral unknown to him at all costs. She had been lucky the day before, but could not count on that same luck again. The less Frollo knew about her, the better.

Her priority was to help Quasimodo; in any way she could. This wish poured out generously from her heart and mind. She had seen a sort of kindred soul in the bell ringer and could not forget it. Perhaps…it was a piece of herself and also of her beloved that she had seen in his twisted, but gentle features that had drawn her to this holy place once again. After all, she too had once been misjudged for her appearance, as was her beloved while he had taken the form of a Beast.

Ascending the tower steps once again, Belle was careful to make sure that the Archdeacon had not followed her. She also took care to hear for a second voice in the bell tower itself. But for now all she heard was silence. In most other cases, silence enflamed some deep-rooted fear in people's minds. But for Belle, it was a sign of peace and privacy. And a good thing too: she would very much like to speak to Quasimodo alone and uninterrupted.

She emerged to the top step and gazed around the tower. There, on top of Etienne she could see the bell ringer polishing the top of it's frame with a rag. He hadn't noticed her come in of course but Belle did not expect him to. She walked over to one of the closer bells and gave it a loud knock with the back of her hand. The sound vibrated heavily for a few moments. It was enough to make Quasimodo stop what he was doing and look around. His one good eye searching for the source of the vibration. When his gaze landed upon Belle it caused him such joyful surprise, he nearly fell right off the bell.

"You….you came back!?" He asked loudly in disbelief. Belle couldn't help but smile widely and chuckled at his response. Frollo had not been wrong altogether. Quasimodo was very much like a child. But that naïve part of him was so endearing and innocent, it was difficult to see it as anything but delightful.

"Yes! Of course! Why wouldn't I?" She asked as she walked a bit closer to the bell he sat upon. Quasimodo swung down off of the bell's wheel and landed with perfect form down onto the floor in front of her. He looked up at her, his features still plagued with surprise.

"My….my master…. I thought he sent you away." He explained, making sure to quiet his voice as best he could, just in case the Archdeacon were nearby. Belle shook her head thankfully. "No. Not at all. He was rather kind to me." Belle explained, though somehow, she feared that kindness wouldn't last long if she were discovered here again.

"Quasimodo…I must ask you something." Belle said slowly while tucking a long strand of dark hair behind her ear. The bell ringer waited patiently for her to speak.

"How did Frollo…. become your master?" Belle asked, getting quickly to the point at hand. She had never seen a worker behave so submissively towards their employer. If the Archdeacon had simply hired Quasimodo to be the bell ringer, she knew their relationship would be entirely different than it was. Some mysterious piece of this unbalanced puzzle was certainly amiss.

The bell ringer struggled to answer at first, having likely never been asked such a personal question before. But at last, he managed to gather up enough words to respond honestly. "Master took me in….when I was very young. He found me….and taught me all that I know…." The bell ringer looked down at his bandaged hands and wrung them together nervously. A long-engrained habit of his, Belle guessed.

"He is….like a father to me." He admitted quietly. Belle could tell simply just in his manner of speaking that this was the first time he had ever said this out loud to anyone. The proof of this was that Frollo had been his only human contact. That much had become very clear to her.

But what shocked her was how easily Quasimodo had called him "father". No. That man was no father at all. It was now when thoughts of Belle's own father came flooding into her mind. By comparison, Maurice was such a kind, gentle and strong man. Capable of firmness and ever-lasting devotion in the same breath. He had been everything to her. Teacher, guardian, friend and father. Her love for him was only matched by his love for her.

Belle crouched down a little to Quasimodo's height and looked him deeply in the eyes. "No, Quasimodo. That man….is not your father." She explained sternly. Her tone may have been harsh, but she felt it vital that he listen to her. The bell ringer looked shocked but allowed her to continue.

"Fathers are supposed to be kind and gentle and loving. They're supposed to protect you. Yes, parents should be firm with their children at times….but not cruel. Nevercruel!" She said. There was just the faintest gleam of tears in her eyes. "…and you should never be afraid of him!"

Quasimodo was quite speechless for a few moments, as Belle expected him to be. But she did not expect him to completely deny what it was that she said to him. "N…no. Master is not….cruel. He….he is my….defender…." He explained. But his words faltered, as though he only half believed in what he was saying. "….master has given me…sanctuary. S…so….I owe my life….to him…."

Belle shook her head sadly and frowned. "I am sorry, Quasimodo. I understand why you would believe that….but….I'm scared for you. I worry for you. I revealed myself to him because I thought he would beat you. Has he.…hurt you before?" She asked, half-scared of what the answer would be.

Quasimodo's eyes quickly darted downwards. His dishevelled hair fell down in front of his eyes as he remained silent; a guilty expression plagued his malformed features. This gave Belle the only answer that she needed.

"He has…" She exclaimed while putting a hand in front of her mouth in shock. This of course prompted Quasimodo to rush to his master's defense. "B….but….o….only when I disobeyed him…" He explained as hurriedly as he could.

"That does not make it right!" Belle retorted loudly. However, not a single bit of anger could be found in her tone. In fact, her voice had now taken on the role of a firm but patient mother, instructing a child in the ways of love and forgiveness.

"I am…worried for you, Quasimodo. I want you to leave this place." The bell ringer looked at her in shock, responding as though he had just insulted him. Belle took his large hands in her own and stared at him with an unyielding but loving gaze.

"Come with me."

Quasimodo's mouth dropped. He had no words to say in the face of such a remarkable concept. It had never once crossed his mind to leave this tower. Not one single time. Had he dreamed of walking the streets of Paris like the rest of the commoners? Every chance he could.

But to leave? And leave forever? No. It could not be done. The bell ringer was entirely unaware of his worth. His allegiance to his master was all he had ever known and was the furthest extent of his awareness for the world around him. The bell tower was not just his home. It was his universe. Belle simply did not understand.

"I…I can't…." Quasimodo at last said. "I'm….sorry…."

This conclusion did sadden Belle. But she knew that even if he did not believe her now, the act of planting a thought is one of the most powerful things that anyone can do. And if this thought were given the chance to grow, then perhaps one day. Someday soon, he would finally have the courage to leave.

"I understand." She said, though she certainly did not want to. She found herself looking at the floor for a moment or two in deep thought. This caused her eye to catch the book that was resting in her dress pocket. She pulled it out and examined the cover briefly before offering it to Quasimodo. "I nearly forgot." She said. "I brought this for you." She said while extending it out towards him. The bell ringer, while touched by the kind gesture looked upon the book's cover in confusion. He looked back up at her in the hopes that she might clarify this strange and unexpected gift for him.

"Oh…" Belle suddenly gasped in understanding. "You…. don't know how to read?" She asked. Quasimodo shook his head. A soft smile came to Belle's lips suddenly. An idea had ignited itself in her mind. "Very well, then." She stated firmly before sitting down on the floorboards at their feet. "I'll teach you." She chirped as she patted the space next to her, inviting Quasimodo to sit down. He did so reluctantly, but curiously.

The two of them sat up in the bell tower for hours. With every passage Belle read to him, Quasimodo could decipher more and more words. And eventually, he could read an entire page without her help. It wasn't until the sun began to set and the bell tower began to grow dark when Belle realized how much time had passed.

"We'll stop there for now. I had better get going." Belle announced as she stood to her feet. Quasimodo looked up at her with hesitant eyes. "I….I can see why….you like it…." He said. "…. it's very good."

Belle smiled and gave a small laugh. "I'm glad you enjoy it." She said. Quasimodo closed the book and held it to his chest before standing up and look at Belle reluctantly. "Can I….er…..m-may I borrow it?" He asked, as innocently as ever. Belle smiled widely with joy. "Yes! Of course you can!" She exclaimed, over-joyed and beyond thrilled that he would even ask that of her.

"T…thank you…" Quasimodo said with a gentle, thankful sigh. Belle returned his smile. "I hope to see you again soon. Goodnight…. Quasimodo." She said gently, turning to look at him one last time before walking towards the stairs.

"Goodnight…..Belle…" Quasimodo answered, still holding the book close to himself and watching Belle until she was out of sight.


	5. Of Books and Bells - Chapter 5

For the remainder of the night, Quasimodo sat on the railing of the balcony with Belle's book in his lap. Since he had learned to decipher these words, he had barely been able to put the book down. In fact, more than once he nearly forgot to ring the bells for mass. He had become so entranced in the story she had given him, the outside world seemed to slowly disappear. In fact, the longer he remained entranced in the pages, the more it began to feel like he was traveling; traveling far away form the bell tower and into the land of this story.

He couldn't have imagined it when Belle had first suggested it to him, but for the first time Quasimodo could almost feel what it was like to be outside. And not just outside on the balcony like this. Truly _out there_. Out there among the peasants, the bakers, the millers and their wives. To freely walk among them, like an ordinary man without a care in the wicked world for his hideousness.

Just once, he hoped he could one day feel the joy of freedom on his face. Feel the breeze through his hair and the sun on his skin. Nothing but a day. Was it really so much to ask?

But like a blast of lightning that comes without warning, a hand had placed itself upon Quasimodo's shoulder. Startled, the bell ringer dropped the book to the balcony stone and turned around to find his master staring at him quite intensely. Normally, this would not have excited him so as this was often Frollo's only way of gaining his attention. But Quasimodo had been so absorbed in the book, the hand to his shoulder had felt so forceful.

The archdeacon opened his mouth to speak but his eyes inevitable fell downwards to the book which now laid at his feet and thus, he remained silent for a short while. The two halves of it split open on the ground with the spine facing upwards. Quasimodo became gravely silent, awaiting his master's temper to rise like a storm coming forth from a near horizon.

"What….is this?" Frollo asked while leaning down to pick the book up. Quasimodo made no reply, as Frollo could plainly see the title displayed clearly on the book's brown and gold cover.

"What is this?" He asked again, this time far more impatiently. Quasimodo slid down to the balcony level to stare at his master from a more familiar position. "….a….story." He said, his voice growing quiet and ashamed once more.

Frollo gave an annoyed sigh; the type that is heard but passes through the lips unseen. "Yes, I can see that it is a story, Quasimodo. Where did you find it?" He asked. His impatience rising with every word he spoke. Even a poor, deaf wretch like the bell ringer could see that his master was growing crosser by the moment.

"…I…." He began, but froze for a moment. He feared punishment, but he knew whatever reprehension awaited him would be far worse if he were to be caught in a lie. "….B…Belle gave it to me…." He answered, bracing himself for whatever angry accusation Frollo would surely say to him next. But to Quasimodo's surprise, his master did not break into a rage. Instead he simply looked at his ward with a slightly raised eyebrow and then back down at the book. As he flipped through some more of it's pages, Quasimodo held his breath anxiously.

With a huff, Frollo snapped the book shut and looked at the bell ringer in the eyes. But before he said anything, he promptly tossed the book over the balcony. Quasimodo watched helplessly with his mouth dropped open as the book fell further and further down out of his sight until it hit the pavement far down below. The archdeacon suddenly planted his hand under the boy's jaw and forcefully turned his gaze upwards upon him.

With his free hand, Frollo pointed an accusing finger at Quasimodo. "Listen to me very carefully, Quasimodo. I don't _ever_ want to see you reading these kinds of stories ever again. Do you understand?" The bell ringer was so shocked, he could feel his understanding of the situation begin to slip away.

His master's eyes flickered with a fiery rage and without so much as a warning, struck Quasimodo across his face with his opposite hand causing the bell ringer to cry out in pain. The rings cut his cheek as the hand had passed and left it sore and red. When Quasimodo looked again at his master with wide, teary eyes, he wisely chose to respond.

"Y…yes, master…." He replied quickly, his voice wavering like an autumn leaf. Only then did his master finally release him and take a few paces back away. "Good." Was all the archdeacon said for a short while. Quasimodo raised his own hand to touch his now red face. It stung of a dull pain.

"That girl….did you see her again today?" He asked.

"Yes." Quasimodo replied, now clasping his hands together in front of him. "Do not allow her to come into the tower again. If you see her, bring her to me immediately. Is that clear?" The last statement to pass through the archdeacon's lips was as sharp as a knife and cut Quasimodo just as deeply as one. It hurt him to obey, but he had to, lest he be struck again.

"Yes….master." He replied, rather reluctantly. But his master did not seem to notice. "Now then….ring the bells and send the city to sleep. We will speak no more of this. Goodnight."

The bell ringer opened his mouth to repeat those parting words, but the Archdeacon was now already long gone down the steps. Before he could even comprehend it, Quasimodo was alone again. And though his master had only been with him for a few moments, so much had transpired in that short time. And not just in words, but in his mind.

It was only now, at this late hour when Quasimodo realized just what Belle's presence had meant to him. For his twenty years on this earth, his master had been the closest thing to a friend he had ever known. But now he could see that it was a dishonest comparison, at best. It wasn't until, by pure chance that Belle had wandered up into the bell tower and he had cast his eye upon her that for the first time…. Quasimodo had known what it was to have a _real_ friend. With her, he did not feel at all the same as when he was near his master. Belle was graceful and gentle with him. She had never raised her voice angrily at him. Not even once. And he had become so accustomed to angry scolding and beatings, it never occurred to him that a life was meant to be lived in tranquility, not fear.

Now he realized far too late that Belle's offer had not come lightly. He should have grasped the opportunity with both of his scarred hands and held on as tightly as he could. But now…. now he was just as trapped as he ever was. And if he saw Belle again, he would have no choice but to deliver her to Frollo. He did not want to, but his master's temper was not a force to meddle with. By every cost, he could not disobey him. He still owed him his loyalty for taking him in as an infant. A deformed, parent-less child with nowhere to call home.

But the price of loyalty was now much higher than it had ever been. What had Quasimodo become now, that he had to sacrifice what little kindness he had been offered in exchange for mercy? What was he now but a thought-less slave? Never to become the master of his own fate?

Was that chance now gone forever?


	6. Of Books and Bells - Chapter 6

Before making another visit to Notre Dame, Belle decided to stop at the markets though she did her best not to stray too long. She was anxious to return to Quasimodo and continue to teach him. She had not felt such joy in reading since she and her beloved had discovered their shared love of Shakespeare. She truly felt she was making a good, honest difference in another's life. There were fewer things that Belle had ever strived to do.

After buying some more bread and fruit, she tucked the items away in her dress pouches and made her way towards the cathedral. It was there, on the steps of Notre Dame where she saw the very book she had given Quasimodo the previous night. Thankfully, it had not been broken in the fall, but it's pages were now severely drenched from the wet stone. For how many hours it had laid here forlorn, Belle did not know. With a frown, she kneeled down to pick it up. Such a pity that it was her favourite.

However, she was more confused than upset. Why had Quasimodo thrown it off the balcony? What had possibly transpired so that he felt the need to dispose of it so suddenly? It didn't seem like him at all. It was then when Belle realized that perhaps it was not Quasimodo who had thrown it.

She did her best to dry the book with the fabric of her skirt but some pages were damaged beyond repair. Belle huffed in frustration and moved through the front doors, determined to confront the Archdeacon himself if need be. She placed the book in her last remaining dress pouch and carried on forth through the main chamber. She marched up the stairs and climbed further up into she was in the bell tower for the third time.

Instinctively, Belle was about to shout Quasimodo's name but stopped herself upon realizing the call would have gone un-heard. Instead, she simply tried to seek him out. Stepping out on the balcony, she looked around. The breeze caught in her hair, she tucked it behind her ears promptly while inquisitive eyes searched the area. Nothing.

She let out a loud gasp when she heard the creak of a floor board directly behind her. Of course, it was Quasimodo's deformed visage that had startled her, but the manner in which he had approached her.

It seemed he had deliberately tried to approach her silently. For what reason, Belle was almost frightened to know. She looked at him for a few moments before finally speaking. She placed a hand to her chest and sighed in relief. "Oh….there you are." She exhaled. When Quasimodo did not reply right away, she knew something was certainly wrong.

"Is something the matter?" Belle asked, taking an inquisitive step towards him. It was some time before the bell ringer spoke to her. And when he finally did…

"….I….I must take you to my master." Quasimodo said in a hushed yet urgent voice. Belle's mouth opened partially in shock. She stared at him with fear, for truly the very first time.

"Quasimodo?" She began to step away from him until her back touched the balcony railing. More cautious than afraid, there wasn't a bone in her body that honestly believed he would hurt her. But when the silence between them grew longer and longer, doubt crept it's way into her mind.

When Quasimodo continued to step towards her with his habitual, uneven gait…Belle could see just as much fear in his eyes as there was in her own. Before he could so much as lay a hand on her, he stopped and lowered his head in shame.

"I…..I can't do it…" He whispered pitifully to himself, burying his face in his hands. Belle frowned sympathetically and kneeled down to him. Gingerly, she brought his hands away from his face and gently motioned for the bell ringer to look at her in the eyes. He would have seen the kindest, most gentle of brown eyes staring down upon his misshapen form. He could have wept at her beauty; the morning sunlight was casting an angelic glow on her face.

It was at this moment that Quasimodo knew he had to make a choice.

"It's all right…." Belle assured him as softly as she could. When the bell ringer had composed himself, Belle took one of his hands in her own and held it firmly, but lovingly. Her frown deepened when she noticed the scars on his face from where he had been struck.

"He is not a good man, Quasimodo." Tenderly, she caressed the wounded side of his face with the back of her hand. "….and no one who hurts you…. has the right to keep you here."

This realization hit Quasimodo's heart so hard and so deeply, he immediately started to weep. He could not help it. Her kindness had struck a cord in his heart he thought he had forgotten years ago. He said nothing and only continued to sob while Belle embraced his large frame in her arms. She held him long and tight until he was ready to speak.

"I-I….I know…" He finally whimpered at last. He spoke as though he had failed. But on the contrary, it was the most important victory of his life. The battle to realize his own worth had been hard fought and won.

Belle placed both of her hands on his shoulders and pulled away slightly to gaze into his eyes. "Whatever it takes….I will make sure he never hurts you again. I promise." She said, speaking as firmly as the mother he had never known. A few more tears leaked out of the corners of his eyes and he slowly nodded his head. "T…thank you…." He muttered with a sniff.

Belle smiled heartfully. The bell tower was silent for a few moments until…

"…. Belle?"

"Yes?"

"…...I…. I would like to…. leave with you…" Quasimodo admitted. He was frightened beyond belief that he had even said such a thing out loud. But he also knew he had never been more certain of anything in his life. Belle gave a small smile.

"I'm glad." She said.

"B….but….I do not know how. Master is always here…" Quasimodo explained with an anxiously glance to the floor. Belle's gaze drifted to the side. She allowed herself to sink deeply into thought. What could be done?

"Leave it to me. I'll see what I can do. For now…be careful." She held his hand in her own and gave it another squeeze before taking her leave towards the stairs. Quasimodo held his now empty hand to his heart and nodded slowly. "I will…." He promised quietly.

Belle was halfway down the main chamber stair case when she looked up and noticed who was standing in her way. Archdeacon Frollo stared up at her from the bottom of the steps with a cold scowl.

"So…. you've come again to fill the boy's head with more of your blasphemous stories?" He asked. He did not even try to hide the discontent in his voice. Belle grounded herself sturdily and took a deep, silent breath in.

"Quasimodo is a man. Not a child. And you should stop treating him like one!" Belle's voice had carried further than she had anticipated. The choir below was now distracted and all eyes had turned towards the two. Belle watched as Frollo's countenance turned just the faintest shade of red in embarrassment. Yet he did not hesitate to continue.

" _That_ is none of your concern." He said slowly. Frollo's dark eyes scanned Belle up and down, from the bottom of her skirts to the top of her head. He appeared to be looking for _something_ though Belle could hardly take a guess as to what. She shifted uncomfortably. His gaze seemed to wander for years. Finally, Belle could stand it no longer. "What are you doing?" She asked, turning away from him slightly.

"Forgive me, child…. I have been irascible with you." Frollo said as he took a few paces up the stairs. But every step he took, Belle took another backwards. "….I hope you do not think ill of me. All that I do, I do to help him. Surely someone as…. gifted as you are can understand." The archdeacon's voice had taken on a completely different tone now. Moments earlier it had been curt and unfeeling. But now, it was rather soft and sensitive to Belle's ears. She said nothing but only frowned slightly in discomfort. Frollo took a few steps closer to her still. "Oh, but you mustn't be afraid. I too have been tempted by the practises of dark magic. Your secret is quite safe with me, child." Belle raised an eyebrow in confusion.

"What are you talking about?" She asked, her voice had now shrunken to a whisper. But more out of disbelief than fear. Frollo now approached her closely, forcing Belle's back into a stone pillar.

"If you would confess your sins to me, I would see to it that your soul be saved. I can help you." The last part was particularly venomous. While outwardly, it sounded like a generous offer, Belle could see the licentious intent which hide narrowly behind it. She had not noticed how close Frollo was to her until she felt his ringed hand brush up against her own. She grimaced and backed away immediately. "I….I…" She was truly at a loss for words. She never could have imagined that this was how he felt for her. It made her sick to her stomach.

"I…..I'm sorry your grace. But I….do not think I need saving."

If she was being perfectly frank, Belle in fact thought it was the Archdeacon who ought to be saved from something.

"No?" Frollo asked briefly with a faint sneer. He was no doubt disappointed. Indeed, he so wholly expected Belle to fall to her knees before him and beg to have her soul saved. In his eyes, no woman as well read or intelligent as Belle could have possibly acquired these gifts without the possession of black magic.

"…. not in the way…that you would save it." Belle had not meant for these words to come out the way they did. But by the time she had realized exactly what she had said, it was too late. And though she did not regret speaking her mind and exposing what had been left unsaid, she would soon bear witness to the consequences of such words.

Frollo stared at Belle in utter disbelief and rage. He seemed to be trembling with fury and it all spilled out at once in one hellish moment. "HOW DARE YOU!" He shouted. His voice carried all the way down the main chamber and back again. Belle's mouth hung open in surprise. She had not expected the Archdeacon's outburst nor the intense fire that was now plain to see in his eyes.

"I should have known! No gypsy would ever truly want to be saved!" He shouted. His voice booming like thunder once again for all to hear. "Gypsy?!" Belle exclaimed in disbelief. She could have laughed at the absurdity of his claims had his temper not been so severe.

"Get out!" Frollo shouted as he pointed towards the door, fuming with rage. Belle couldn't have been quicker to run down past him and towards the door. As she did, his voice echoed and followed her ruthlessly through the doors of Notre Dame.

"Set one foot inside this cathedral again and I shall have you arrested!"


	7. Of Books and Bells - Chapter 7

Belle was still boiling with emotions beyond count as she entered the market two squares away from the Cathedral. It would be nearly impossible to flee with Quasimodo now that she was no longer allowed inside of Notre Dame. This once peaceful and sacred place had now become the bell ringer's prison. But Belle would not dare leave Paris until he was free from it. There had to be something she could do. She refused to believe that she was as powerless as Frollo made her feel.

As she wandered the cobble stone streets, her mind began to back itself into a corner. What was she to an Archdeacon? She did not have her beloved's authority. She could not simply order him to release Quasimodo. What was she to do?

For hours Belle walked down alleyways. Aimless and confused, her thoughts racing faster than her feet. Eventually she passed by a man in a cloak and hood who was sitting up against the stone wall of an alley.

"A few francs for a starving gypsy?" The man called out to her while extending his hand.

Belle stopped with a sigh and reached into her coin purse. But it was the last word he said that had suddenly caught the better part of her attention.

The Archdeacon's words suddenly came flooding back to her.

Belle turned to him inquisitively and approached the beggar closer. She said nothing but leaned down to try and obtain a better look at his face.

"…. you're a gypsy?" Belle asked, her warm, brown gaze silently begging for clarification. From under his hood, she could barely make out a small smile on the man's face. "That's what they call us, mademoiselle."

Belle stilled her tongue for a moment, glancing around briefly to ensure that no one was eavesdropping. "….who are you?" She asked. Upon hearing the question, the man now smirked. It was actually a rather dashing smile, had it not been missing a tooth. The beggar stood to his feet and pulled his hood back. The brown fabric fell away to reveal a smiling face. Dark brown eyes pierced into Belle's. His skin was equally dark. A rather scraggly and untrimmed beard marked his face. Belle would have thought him handsome were it not for the devilish air about him.

"Clopin Trouillefou, my lady. A pleasure indeed to make your acquaintanceship. And just in time too, it seems. Having a spot of trouble with the Archdeacon, are you? Hmm?" He tutted a few times and wagged his finger in Belle's direction. She looked at him with wide eyes, rather surprised at his foresight. "How….how did you know?" She asked, incredulously.

Clopin gave an impish grin and pointed a gloved finger to his ear. "Word travels as fast as a fire in this city. And the rats of the street do love to talk. Gave him quite the earful, did you?"

Almost bashfully, Belle looked down at the street while running a hand through her hair. "I….I suppose one could say that….yes." She admitted with the smallest of smiles. She truly wasn't happy about it but something about him sparked a sort of excitement in her. Somehow, she felt this meeting was not by chance. Perhaps Clopin was exactly the sort of person she had been looking for.

"I take it you're not terribly fond of him either?"

"My dear, you do not have enough years even on _your_ life to hear about it!" Clopin exclaimed, not angrily but not terribly content either. "That Archdeacon, holed up in his cozy, stone palace, curses us and asks God to smite us at every little chance he has." Clopin held his hand up and pinched at the air for emphasis.

Belle furrowed her brow in concern. "Why does he hate you so much?"

"Tis better to be a rat than a gypsy in the ville des cloches, mon cher. Hate is our way of life." Clopin explained, matter-of-factly. And yet, he did not seem so terribly sad about this state of affairs. "I am sorry." Belle exclaimed. Without even a moment's hesitation she reached into her coin purse and pulled out a few francs before putting them firmly into Clopin's open hand. The truand bowed rather chivalrously at the neck to her. "Many thanks, mademoiselle."

"I wish I could do more." Belle replied sadly. Suddenly, as clear as daylight….a shining ray of a thought burst into her mind. "What if I were to pay you….fifty francs more…if you would do something for me?" Clopin's eyes widened upon hearing the generous offer. "Fifty….francs?" He repeated very slowly, as though afraid he may have misheard her.

"It's all the money I have I'm afraid. I know it's not much. But-" She was interrupted when Clopin took her hand in his own and placed and chivalrous kiss upon the back of it. Belle's face flushed red and she stared at Clopin in silence. His smile disappeared for just a moment. "Say no more, my dear. Your wish is my command." He let go of her hand and stepped away. Belle smiled sheepishly while tucking a few strands of hair behind her ear.

"T….thank you. I am glad it's enough." She began and then lowered her voice to just above a whisper. Clopin leaned in intently to hear.

"I need you to cause a distraction for me tomorrow in front of the Cathedral. A dear friend of mine is locked up inside one of the bell towers of Notre Dame. I want to set him free, but I can't do it while the Archdeacon is inside. Could you…. perhaps, distract him for me?"

Clopin suddenly let out a loud laugh, startling Belle for a moment. When he was finished he wiped his eyes with a hand and grinned. "You're asking a group of truands to distract the honourable Archdeacon Frollo? Even without your generous offer mademoiselle, we would do it for free!" He exclaimed, having great difficulty in containing his excitement. Instinctively, Belle shushed him, though thankfully there was no one around.

"I am….glad to hear it. Though I must warn you….it might be dangerous." To this, Clopin gave Belle a side eyed smile.

"Mon cher, danger is our lot in life. At dusk tomorrow, we will be ready."

On her way home, Belle was approached by a courier. She paid him the fee and he handed her a letter stamped with a royal seal. She could hardly wait to get to the inn and read it.

She closed the door of her room and immediately sat down on her bed side to read it on her lap. She tore the wax seal off and pulled the letter out of it's envelope.

 _Belle,_

 _I can only hope that this letter has reached you in time._

 _I know your heart is in the right place. And I have no doubts that if you could, you would help every unfortunate soul not only in Paris, but the whole world. However, if this Archdeacon is as cruel as you say he is, then you must not become involved in his affairs under any circumstances._

 _Don't do anything reckless, Belle. I don't want to lose you._

 _Perhaps it would be best if you came home straight away._

 _Be safe, my love._

 _Adam_

In stunned silence, Belle sat on the edge of her bed and stared out at the city streets; watching in despair as every last bit of daylight became swallowed up by the night. Thoughts raced furiously through her mind.

What had she done?

She did not even know if she would succeed. But there was no time to turn back. Of that, Belle was absolutely certain.

She loved Adam dearly, but Belle knew down in the deepest place of her heart that she could never forgive himself if she gave up on Quasimodo now.

Tomorrow, she was going to escape the Cathedral with him or get thrown in the bastille while trying. She didn't have a choice, but she wouldn't dream of abandoning the bell ringer now, along with everything else that she had promised him.

Every night brings a day. When morning came, she would be ready.


	8. Of Books and Bells - Chapter 8

8

Belle was up bright and early the next morning. She spent the majority of the day packing her belongings and making sure that when dusk arrived, she was ready to leave immediately. With every tolling of the bells, Belle was reminded of the reason for this daring plan. But further than just a simple reminder, it prompted her to acknowledge what little time she had left. The hours passed by faster than a racing thought.

In the evening, she had traveled to the horse stables to check on Philippe. She needed to ensure that he was in peak, physical condition. She and Quasimodo may have to leave the city as quickly as possible. It did not hurt to plan ahead in case the worst should happen, though Belle did not know exactly what the worst would look like.

Sure enough, Phillipe was content as ever though he did seem a touch lonely. He had likely missed Belle's company since she had been away and gave a happy sort of neigh when he saw her approach. "Good morning, Phillipe." Belle said with a smile while extending her hand out to offer him an apple. The horse ate it promptly without hesitation. After examining him briefly, Belle determined there was nothing wrong with her companion. He would be fit for riding after all. She gave him a few pats on his neck and with a deep breath of air, began to make her way across the squares and towards the cathedral. There was no sign of Clopin or his troupe as of yet but Belle saw no reason to fret about it. He had no reason to deceive her.

Just outside by the great steps, Belle waited patiently in the shadow of the cathedral, watching as the light on the stone in front of her began to slow disappear. Sunset had started. She expected Clopin to be here any moment.

He just as well could have read her mind. Right at that moment, Belle saw a group of Romani men and women approaching the square. The only thing that gave them away to Belle had been their timing. To any other civilians, they would have looked as common beggars, simply passing through the square in dirty, ragged clothing. But Belle recognized this as their disguise. She waited by the doors. As soon as they begun, the priests and mass of Notre Dame would come flooding out of the doors to locate the source of the commotion. Then, Belle would have to act fast while everyone was outside. With haste, she would slip inside the cathedral, run up to the bell tower, find Quasimodo and bring him back down so they could escape the city together. With a bit of luck, they would slip away during all of the chaos and cease to return.

The bells of Notre Dame suddenly began to toll for eight 'o'clock. Precisely at the time when the sun was about to set. Belle waited with anticipation and counted anxiously.

One. Two. Three. Four. Five. Six. Seven. Eight.

On the eighth chime, Clopin and the rest of his troupe threw off their beggar's robes, revealing their true identities to all in the square. The King of the Truands made eye contact with Belle and grinned from ear to ear. He then shouted a command loudly in his native tongue. Before Belle could even begin to try and decipher what it is he had said, a loud, brilliant flash of red light exploded from the middle of the square. Several other equally loud and colourful explosions sounded all at once. The gypsies were dropping some sort of flammable powder that upon making contact with stone, flashed brilliantly like a dazzling inferno of colour.

The distraction had worked. Immediately, the doors of Notre Dame burst open. The choir, the mass, priests and bishops alike all rushed outside. They mumbled loudly to themselves, no doubt mistaking the gypsies powder for magic spells.

Finally, Frollo stormed out of the cathedral, his cape and robes trailing along the stone with every angry stride. "Alert the city guard!" He barked to one of his priests. "I want every one of these gypsies to be hunted down and arrested!"

Belle took this time to flee into the dark of the cathedral. The doors were wide open and begging her to take the chance. She took it gladly and immediately began to run up the stairs towards the bell towers.

As she ran across the balcony, a familiar voice cried out to her from above. "Belle!" She heard Quasimodo shout. She looked up and saw him scale down the side of the tower to meet her. "Hurry! Now's our chance!" Belle shouted. She took his hand and they began to run as fast as they could back down the steps of the cathedral. Belle felt every muscle in her body shake with anticipation as she saw the front doors. Freedom was but a small flight away.

When Belle and Quasimodo arrived at the entrance, complete pandemonium had ensued in the square. Knights were on horseback, trying to round up all of the gypsies. However, this was proving to be quite difficult as they kept disappearing in flashes of smoke. One by one, until only Clopin remained standing. He saw Belle and Quasimodo and gave a ceaseless, victorious laugh. He threw his fist to the ground and disappeared with a bang and a flash of red and purple smoke.

"Witchcraft! You all saw that! Find them!" Frollo's voice bellowed in the midst of the knights and the crowds that had now gathered at the square in Notre Dame.

Belle led Quasimodo around the front of the Cathedral and towards an alleyway. Freedom was now completely within their grasps. And if Frollo had not been looking in that direction at that very moment, it is possible that Belle and the hunchback of Notre Dame would have made it safely to the outskirts of Paris.

But they did not.

There are no words for the rage that passed over the Archdeacon's sullen, aged features when he caught the pair in his sight. No verbal descriptions in any language of the world could possibly describe the fire which burned in his dark pupils upon seeing Belle and his ward trying to escape.

They had been caught. And neither Belle nor Quasimodo had planned for this. They had been so close, but it was all for naught. Thankfully, the guards were still so heavily distracted, they did not even notice the escapees standing there in the streets before Notre Dame. But the pair still had Frollo to contend with; and he had proven to be a force they could not hope to compete with.

Belle knew not what to do. And worse yet, she was running out of time to think. They had perhaps ten seconds before Frollo would make his way through the crowd and reach them. At this moment, when the entire plan seemed to be collapsing down upon them like heavy stone Quasimodo suddenly grabbed Belle by her hand and quickly led her over to the southern side of the cathedral. Belle had no time to think or to argue. Her mind was too clouded to even do so. She followed him purely on instinct. It was no use to try a door. It would doubtlessly be locked. But she had no time at all to think of an alternative. Thankfully, the bell ringer had a plan.

"Hold on!" Quasimodo shouted. Without hesitation, Belle flung her arms around his shoulders and held on for her life, even before she was aware that her feet were no longer touching the ground. She shut her eyes tightly and didn't dare look down. She only heard the bell ringer's groans of exhaustion as he hoisted them both up further and further along the side of the cathedral.

When Belle next had the courage to open her eyes, she found that they were hanging off the side of the left bell tower. From there, through an open slant in the shingling Quasimodo helped her inside the tower. When Belle's feet touched the wooden stairs, her knees buckled and she felt as though her entire body was about to dissolve. Sensing her weakness, Quasimodo held onto her to keep her from falling. "Are you….okay?" He asked. Fatigued, but not badly affected by the long climb.

"I…yes…I'm fine." Belle stammered while brushing some hair from out of her eyes. "We…should be safe here…" Said the bell ringer in a quiet yet optimistic voice. He quickly surveyed the tower. As they began to climb down the wooden steps, Belle caught a glimpse of the drop in the center. She suddenly felt as though she were staring down the throat of some giant wooden beast. For support, Belle clutched onto Quasimodo's shoulder tightly. She never knew she possessed such a crippling fear of heights. Though she might have guessed that such a drop could make anyone weak. Even the bell ringer, who was intimately familiar with these wooden and metal contraptions was being exceedingly cautious.

They had made it about half way down the tower steps. Hope was on the rise. Belle's heart beat had finally begun to calm itself.

But upon approaching the corner of the steps, from the balcony doorway the Archdeacon suddenly emerged like a snake in the grass and with just as much cunning. Quasimodo let out an audible gasp and staggered back with Belle in tow. Her voice caught in her throat; she was too surprised to make a sound.

"So…..the gypsies pawn returns to the Cathedral once again. I expected no less." As Belle fumed with rage, Frollo's gaze shifted from her to his servant. "But you…Quasimodo? You would betray me so swiftly? I who have kept you safe all these years?" The bell ringer looked at his master with silent misery, his mouth parted open to speak but no sounds could come out. At first, it so nearly looked as though Quasimodo would abandon all reason and run to his master's arms to flee from all thoughts of disobedience. But the bell ringer of Notre Dame held his ground without fail. Lest it be a trick of her eyes, Belle thought Quasimodo stood taller now than he ever had.

"No. I…..I am leaving." He finally said. His voice had never sounded clearer. Had it not been for the circumstances, Belle would have smiled proudly at his defiance.

This response of course angered the Archdeacon greatly. And Belle watched as he fought to control his temper. "No. You are not." He began while taking a few steps towards his ward. In the prison of his mind, Frollo saw that he was still in control over this boy. He was confident and assured of himself that Quasimodo would return to him, just as he always had.

"If you leave…. there will be no one to defend you. You will find no comfort or solace out there. The world will show you no mercy. They will mock and hate and jeer at the very sight of you!" Frollo's voice rebounded downwards and up the bottomless tower. Even Quasimodo could feel the force of his master's voice vibrate through the wood at his feet.

It was now when Belle moved past him whilst staring Frollo defiantly in the depths of his eyes. "Let them." She proclaimed boldly. "Let them hate. Let them jeer. Yes, the world is cruel. But there are times and there are people who are not." She added. There was not a glimpse of fear to be found in her eyes or voice.

"We are leaving. And you will never hurt him again."

The Archdeacon looked upon her with an ominous gaze.

"So be it."

Brazenly, Belle clutched Quasimodo's hand in her own and attempted to lead him back up the tower steps and away from Frollo, leaving him behind in the bleak silence of the tower. But it had been a mistake beyond all reckoning to turn their backs against such a man.

Belle heard the creaking of floorboards and turned around to see Frollo with a dagger raised in his hand. He lunged for Belle, the dagger's tip aiming straight for her throat. In a pure, instinctive act of desperation Quasimodo turned and pushed her off the steps. Belle let out a small scream but managed to land on the stairs opposite. She turned around to see that Quasimodo had been stabbed with the dagger in her place; it's blade buried into his shoulder. He let out a loud cry of pain as his master buried the knife in the wound.

"NO!" Belle cried. She picked up the front of her dress and ran as fast as she could back up the steps. When Frollo moved to stab his servant again, Quasimodo stumbled off of the stairs edge and began to fall. Only by catching onto a nearby rope was he able to avoid falling to his death. The heaving of the rope prompted the bell Marcel to ring loudly. It's sounds echoed and plummeted up and down the lengths of the bell tower. Frollo let out an anguished cry and covered his ears with both hands, clenching his teeth together furiously. Belle too, was startled by the sound but did not at all slow her pace as she ascended the stairs.

Quasimodo swung back on the rope and let go with expert timing, landing directly behind his master. While the Archdeacon was distracted, the bell ringer grabbed hold of his wrist and attempted to tear the dagger out of his hand. Frollo fought wrathfully back but could not overpower his servant.

Quasimodo threw the dagger away. It clattered to the floor and down the winding steps, finally stopping just in front of Belle's feet.

With one final attempt, Frollo seized Quasimodo's throat and began to throttle him with such a violent force, even the bell ringer felt powerless against such a ruthless attack. What was left his strength had left him and he had nothing left to give. Quasimodo felt himself lowering to the floor, giving his master exactly the advantage he required to finish the wicked deed. A deranged fire burned in the Archdeacon's pupils as he watched the life of his ward slowly cease.

Frollo suddenly let out a sharp cry of agony. Belle had stabbed him in the arm. Not a fatal wound, only enough to cause his hands to slip away from Quasimodo's neck. While the bell ringer coughed and gasped for air, Frollo clutched his wounded, bleeding arm. As blood began to seep through the pure white of his robes, the Archdeacon lost his footing and with one misplaced step fell off of the stairs and plunged into the dark pit below. His screams carried all the way down until they were ended rather suddenly with a loud thud that could be heard even from the heights of the tower.

Belle and Quasimodo stared down the long, dark descent of the tower in horrified silence as Marcel tolled hauntingly above them.


	9. Of Books and Bells - Chapter 9

9

Belle and Quasimodo stepped out into the balcony with heavy steps, their heads hung down in shock and silence. The high wind was picking up and sent a cold breeze upon them. For many long moments, the two of them did not have the heart to say a single word to each other.

Surprisingly, it was Quasimodo who broke the silence.

"Master…."

He whispered out loud, more to himself than to Belle. The truth of it hurt more than the wound in his back. He had always intended to leave this place, but he had never wished death upon his master. But perhaps he should have.

It would have made the shock of it easier to bear.

It could not have been denied by any power of God or man that Frollo had long since abandoned reason for madness. The young priest who had adopted a deformed foundling out of the goodness of his heart had died long ago, leaving a monster in his place.

And so the monster had to die so that the man could be free. But what a pity that freedom had come at such a heavy price.

Belle said nothing but leaned towards Quasimodo and wrapped her arms around him. "Thank you….for saving my life." She whispered into his ear. She was certain he would want to hear this now, at this exact moment. The bell ringer made no reply but warmly returned the embrace.

The two shared a long, heartfelt hug for what felt like the sum of an hour. They remained on the balcony until sunrise. No matter what had come, the world cared not for tragedy and pain. It still turned nonetheless. The sun, in all of it's uncaring but beautiful glory cast its rays of gold and peach upon the city of Paris.

And as the light dawned upon the face of Notre Dame, the bell ringer felt tears flood to his eyes as he realized something both frightening and beautiful all at once.

He was _free_.

Yes, the price of freedom had been high this night. But he would never suffer at another's hand ever again. Of that, Quasimodo was quite sure. He closed his eyes and took a long, deep breath. Sweeter air had never passed through his lungs. The light of the sun had never felt warmer.

"Are you ready?" Belle asked tenderly, taking his hand in her own. Quasimodo thought for a good, long moment before turning to his new-found friend.

"Belle….I….I…" He began. His thoughts were there, but it was a matter of putting them into words which Quasimodo had always found great difficulty in. Especially when dealing in a revelation such as this. Thankfully, Belle was clever enough to see right through his gentle, but ill-conceived intentions.

"You don't want to leave." She realized out loud, affirming what Quasimodo had already told himself long before she had even asked. He had been needlessly stubborn and slow to admit it, but he could resist no longer. He could not betray the truth of his heart.

"I…I thank you….for all you've done but…..this…..this is still my….home." He said slowly, as though realizing it for the very first time. He placed a bandaged hand down on upon the balustrade. He marveled at this beautiful place, which had protected and sheltered him all his life. Notre Dame was so much more to him than just a palace of stone.

In truth, it had been the cathedral itself…. not Frollo who had kept Quasimodo safe from harm. The noble lady had shielded him from unfriendly eyes, giving him solace and comfort in the shadows of the towers. The bells had been his companions. The Saints had blessed him and the Gargoyles had protected him.

And even in his old age, the bells would still talk to him in their own special ways and the saints would still regard him from their stone facades.

Notre Dame would keep its faithful bell ringer, until his dying breath.

"I….I love it. I always have…." He explained, trying so hard to put such boundless emotions into proper words. But Belle, understanding well enough simply smiled.

"I understand." She assured with a gentle gaze. Home was a matter of the heart. It was not up to her to decide what he would do. There would be no more masters for Quasimodo from this day forth. Belle would permit him gladly to walk these balconies of stone as a free man.

It would pain her to part from him, but she knew she must. But there was still one last thing to be done.

Belle reached into her dress pocket and pulled out _Le Prince Charmant_. The pages were still stained from the rain water, but they had dried to completeness. She held the book gingerly in both hands, admiring it for one last time before offering it to Quasimodo.

"Here." She said with a smile, her eyes beginning to brim with fresh tears. "Something to remember me by."

The bell ringer looked at the book with an amusing expression of surprise. He looked back up at Belle slowly. A child as he ever was, beaming with thankfulness. There were no words to be said. Their gazes told all.

Upon taking the book, Quasimodo wrapped his large arms around her frame, hugging her tightly, nearly taking the breath right out of her. And yet, Belle returned the embrace, letting a few tears to slip from her eyes. But no more. This was to be a joyous occasion for him. No matter how sad she was to leave. "Thank you…." Belle heard him whisper in her ear. Belle parted from Quasimodo slightly to place a kiss on his forehead. Turning away from him slowly, she walked back into the dark of the tower and towards the staircase. The bell ringer held the book lovingly to his chest and looked out into the city below. In the midst of that morning light, he allowed it to warm his aching bones. Happiness had made him whole.

Upon returning to the stables to retrieve Phillipe, Belle felt a finger tap twice against the top of her shoulder. She turned around with an arched brow only to see Clopin staring at her. That devilish smile had never left his face. "Funny thing to see you still here!" He exclaimed. Belle's lips curled into a smirk.

"And you as well." She remarked. "Things didn't turn out as I expected. But it was a brave thing you all did. Thank you." Belle added with a sincere gaze into the truand's eyes. She was met with a smirk that had mirrored her own. "Think nothing of it. It was our pleasure." He proclaimed, somewhat proudly. Belle could not help but admire such bold optimism.

Belle reached into her coin purse. She had not forgotten what she still owed him. "I hope that this will help you….and your people." She added. There was a great part of her that so wished to keep Clopin and the rest of his kind safe from harm's way. But it was just as Adam said. She could not save everyone. She could only do what she had always done.

Her best.

"It will certainly help, my dear. To keep hungry mouths fed, anyway. We hope to see you again soon!" Clopin said in earnest as he happily took the coins from Belle's hand.

"Not soon. But perhaps…someday." In truth, Belle was sad to leave though she missed her home and family dearly.

The sun now high in the Parisian sky, Belle climbed atop Phillipe's back. The gentle horse began to trot towards the city gates. This time she was allowed to exit freely. She breathed in the fresh, country-side air as the walls of the city began to disappear around her and were soon replaced with lush, rolling fields of grass and flowers.

In a week's time, she found herself gazing upon a familiar sight. Peaking over the tops of the trees in front of her was the tallest tower of Adam's castle. Belle sighed a sigh of relief and gave Phillipe's neck a pat.

"Well done."

Upon arriving, she practically fell right into her beloved's embrace. The two shared their most passionate kiss in months. One by one, all of the servants of the castle came running out of the front doors. Lumiere, Cogsworth, Mrs. Potts, Chip and other cherished company all formed a circle around Belle, asking dozens of exuberant questions in a row about her journey. And while Belle told much of what she had seen, she said nothing of Quasimodo and the trials she had shared with him. That was a story for another time. Perhaps one day, they would all be ready to hear it.

As the months passed, Belle found that memories of Quasimodo would enter her mind at the most unexpected of times. Late at night, outside in the garden or even deep inside the library. She could not hear a chime or any sound that resembled a bell at all without thinking of the man who had given such life to them in the heights of that magnificent cathedral. Deformed in name but whole in heart; the bell ringer of Notre Dame had made Belle grateful for all that she held dear and so much more. She would never forget him.

Perhaps one day she might return to Paris. But for now, her soul was happy and exactly where it was meant to be.

Home.

~ The End ~


End file.
